


Doctor Who - 12/Donna Noble - Meeting in a book shop

by Samstown4077



Series: Whouffaldi [7]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Donna Noble - Freeform, F/M, Friendship, Gen, I was looking for a book shop, Revisiting old companions, whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-02
Updated: 2015-11-02
Packaged: 2018-04-29 13:50:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5130011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Samstown4077/pseuds/Samstown4077
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the 12th Doctor strolls into a book shop he meets an old companion of his, knowing he never can reveal himself to her. 12th Doctor revisits Donna Noble, now owner of a book shop. With mix of Whouffaldi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Doctor Who - 12/Donna Noble - Meeting in a book shop

**Author's Note:**

> I had this headcanon over a year ago, and posted about it on tumblr. 12 walks accidentally into a book shop and meets Donna. You have to read how it plays out. Also there is Clara at the end and Whouffaldi, but mainly 12 and Donna friendship.

A bookshop. Yes, exactly, now he remembered. He was looking for a bookshop. Not really a particular one, just one with … books in it. Yes, that would do.

And when Clara had turned to the left for a moment, he had turned to the right and had found himself somewhere between shelves with many books in it.

It was one of those cosy types of bookshop. Books everywhere. In the shelves, on the floor, on the desks, on the chairs. The shelves where all old oak, and there was some kind of special smell in the air. A mix of old books, whispered words and amazing adventures.

His hands trail absently over the backs of the books and the wood that was around them, while his eyes curiously dart around. He always liked books, who didn’t actually? And he is very certain, that if he hadn’t ended up being a time travelling “ _always on the run”_ Time Lord, he would have ended up being a librarian or a book shop owner. Or a rockstar, sometimes he can’t tell.

He huffs, and turns around on his heals, a frown on his face and a question mark over his head. Literally. There is a sign, dangling in the air, ‘ _If you need help, don’t hesitate to ask’._

“Mh,” he grumbles, shifts on the spot and turns back to the books.

He is missing something, as so often, and he doesn’t know what. Why did he come here? He has his own library in the Tardis, he doesn’t have to buy books, the old girl will download them for him. For free. Having a Typ-40 Tardis brings more advantages as simple time travel. He smirks, and then

“Can I help you?”

He rolls his eyes. He has no thing for shop owners who attack their customers the moment they step into their shops with such question. Turning on his heals he is about to tell the woman, that no, it’s fine and he’s just browsing.

‘ _Browse, but don’t touch everything!’_ Clara had told him the last time they were casually shopping, what was actually an undercover mission.

He can’t remember anymore who they had shadowed, but he could remember her being all precise about the browsing and the not touching. ‘ _And take of the shades, you look like Sam Spade himself!’_ Whoever that was.

“Actually, I am sorry to disappoint you, I was just-,” he knows he is not good with faces.

Not with his own, that he had to learn the hard way, and most of all not with those little humans. He usually forgets the boring people's faces and the useless ones and the stupid ones. He calls it deleting, for more precious memories, like Clara smiling at him. She instead calls it bad manners and so he tries to learn manners. For Clara.

Anyway, he might not be good with faces, but this face… he knows, “-browsing,” he then says and simply stares at her as if he has seen a ghost. Maybe he has, he can’t be sure. The last 1000 years were a bit confusing.

“I see,” she pushes her hands into her sides, also a frown on her forehead, wanders with her eyes over him from tip to toe and back. She tries to place him, as a customer, not as person. If he will buy something, after all this browsing, or if he is a waste of time. Like so many customers these days.

He is irritated, and wonders what year it is. He could ask her, but that would probably rise suspicions. He can’t allow that, not with her. To dangerous. The universe might collapse. And Clara would be angry about him — again.

“Donna. Noble,” is therefore everything he says. His hands find together, fiddling, squeezing each other. He can see a question mark pop up over her face. Clever woman, he thinks. Always had been. “Name tag!” he points out with his finger, not touching it, but making a funny circle around it. “There are great, aren’t they?”

“Name tags?” she asks, following his finger, and thinks the man is totally peculiar. Some students come by, some pensioners and from time to time a tourist that got lost in the streets. Then there is the usual crowd, the book lovers. Some teachers also.

He is… none of it. He looks like a magician, she thinks, or a guy who still lives at home with his mother.

‘ _Plaid trousers!’_ , she thinks in a voice that echoes disbelieve. ‘ _Where does this guy come from? The 80s? I mean, how old are you buddy?’_

“Yes,” he answers. “I had one once too. Lost it sadly. I worked in a toy store once. They put my name on it.”

“Ah,” useless, she thinks, he never will buy a book, “that’s the meaning of name tags, isn't it? Putting a name on it.”

He chuckles, “It said the Doctor,” it slips him, and he wants to clap his hand over his mouth. A frown flickers over her face, and he quickly glances outside. No, the universe hasn’t collapsed yet. “Smith, I mean. Doctor Smith, I’m a Doctor.”

The thought flies away again, and she starts to wonder. Something is with him. “Have we met before?”

He inhales long, he hates to lie to her, “I … don’t think so. You would remember me, wouldn’t you?” he points with his long fingers at himself with a grin.

By now she is fairly sure he has escaped from somewhere. A circus maybe. “I probably would,” she then says.

There is still doubt, he can see it. He knows that those are the forgotten memories, that are not forgotten but sealed away, and now, because of his presence, bump against the barrier he had built for her protection. “I usually don’t forget a face.”

He smiles at her, all sad, and then turns to the books wavering with his hand in front of it, “I was looking for a book. I think.”

“Glad you came to a book shop then,” she smirks, and he answers with another smile. This time less maniac and more warm. There is something at him, something she can’t make out yet. “Let’s see,” she checks in what section he had ended up. “History. You have a Doctor in History then?”

He reads the sign too, in fat letters, History. How ironic. “One could say that. I mean, yes I have.” It’s then we he loses his nerves. He can’t be here, not with her, he will make a mistake eventually and then … universe and stuff. She’ll burn up.

Also, he can’t not be here, because he has missed her and he knows he is here for a reason and if it is only to find out how she is doing. He grabs for the next best book and simply holds it in his hands, “Have you been working for long here?”

She leans slightly back, unsure how to take the question. His curiosity is genuine, that’s why she answers, “For a year.”

“Ah,” so she is now the manager of a little book shop, he never had thought she would end up like this. Not that it is a bad thing, but so different from the Donna Noble he once knew. Assistant of the management, was something she had talked about when they had met the first time. And then he remembers, that she not really has to work anymore, he has taken care of it. “So why a book shop then?” he speaks more to himself, and only realizes his mistake when she tells him,

“Because of all the adventures.”

Both his eyebrows come up in sheer surprise, and he leans so far back, that he is glad, he has the heavy book in front, it prevents him from toppling over. Narrow minded as he is sometimes, he frowns at her with one of his expressions, that let him look like he might be slightly retarded.

He then turns around, takes out his sunglasses and takes a closer look at the inventory, maybe he has missed something, a monster, a ghost that lives here too. A portal into another galaxy, but there is nothing.

Donna watches him, and thinks about something to say, what addresses his behaviour, but she can read in him, for some funny reason. Can read, that he doesn’t understands what kind of adventures she might means, so she tips onto the book in his hands, “In the books, dumbo!”

He follows her finger, and smirks over her accent, it’s so typical, and he feels it almost physically how much he misses their banter.

“The books? The adventures in the books?”

“Have you ever been in a book shop before, Doctor?” she then goes on. “Every book an adventure.”

He tilts his head, is this really his Donna Noble? This woman who was all over the planets of the hats? Now working in a book shop from 9 to 5? What has he done? “It’s not real.”

For a reason she can’t explain, she wants to smack him with a book against his forehead, “It’s real here!” she tips against her temple.

Then a warm, fond smile spreads over his face, while he just watches her, and he thinks he has understood, but can’t be sure. Only when he glances over to the work desk in the corner of the room he sees it, the pictures of her and her husband. In Maui, Japan, the Outback, the wildlife of Canada, Kenya, India. Pictures from all over the world. “You travel a lot.”

“Of course I do, sometimes one needs real adventures,” she laughs. “This is just a hobby.”

“I see, I am glad to hear that,” his left hand strokes absently over the book in his hands. “I was already worried.”

“Why would you be worried, you don’t even know me,” she takes the book from his hands. “You going to take that with you?”

He needs to shake his head to find back out of old memories, “Yes, I do.” Only then he glances to the title, and so does she.

“Pompeii. Interesting choice,” she takes it from him, and he finds himself grabbing for it, all flabbergast and with an open mouth, while she carries it away.

“Volcano day,” he utters without thinking, suddenly back again, there, in his mind. She is yelling at him, to save someone, just one person, and he can’t seal his heart against her plea and saves … he knows since a while. His fingers trail over his features. He owns this face to Donna. The most important person in the universe.

She chuckles over his words, “Would be a nice alternative title,” she tips again against the book, there where the title is placed ‘ _Pompeii's Doom’_ , “Sounds quite better as this one.”

When she looks up, she can see him, trail a hand over his cheek, looking like he has withdrawn to somewhere else. She uses the moment, to study him, take in his appearance and his face a bit better.

As it is sometimes, her head aches gently, as if there is something that wants to come out of the dark, into the light, but can’t. Not that it hurts, it’s only a soft nagging, as if behind very thick walls.

“Have we really never met before?” she asks suddenly, and the Doctor steps forward to her, on the edge of telling her, and then the bell that hangs over the door jingles and Clara comes into the room.

“There you are!” she is a bit out of breath, startled over him in a book shop, and over the woman that stands behind the counter. She has reckoned with a monster, a fight, something more adventures. “I was looking for you everywhere.”

He sighs, as he sometimes does, when Clara uses words like _everywhere_ and _forever_ or says things like ‘ _I waited an eternity’_ , “I am sure you haven’t, and it seems you found me still.”

“A book shop,” she glances around, gives Donna a shy smile, while she tries to find out what was going on before she has stepped in. “That’s new.” She steps aside him, watches Donna fiddle with the book.

“I know,” he growls. He is actually happy she has come to find him, as he was about to jeopardize the wholeness of the universe. They both know what has happened the last time he had been looking for a book shop, but Clara is clever enough, to keep that to herself.

“That’s 19.95,” Donna shoves the book to the edge of the counter.

“Oh,” he says and looks guiltily at Clara. “You know I don’t carry money, could you...?”

She grumbles in silence, but pulls out a 20 pound note out of her pocket and gives it to Donna, who looks with curious eyes at her, obviously trying to find out the connection between her and the Doctor.

The Doctor catches Donna’s look, and then glances at Clara for a moment, before looking back at her, “I don’t think so. Only when you believe in reincarnation, then maybe.”

“I once had a friend, who also never carried money with him,” she then starts to muse, but stops suddenly. There are words and memories, but she can’t grasp them in her head. It’s like a name on the tip of the tongue, that one is unable to speak out loud. “Or maybe that was in a movie, or a book. I… I so can not remember right now. Funny isn’t it, sometimes?”

“I understand,” he steps forward. “We all have those moments, when we think we remember something remarkable, but then it seems so overwhelming and out of order for our beings, that we suddenly lose faith in our strengths. Blaming it on an old story we believe we once read.”

She stares the longest time at him, and then whispers, “Yeah. Maybe you are right.”

He smiles gently at her, before turning his attention one last time toward the wall with all the pictures. Somewhere in the middle he can see a picture of her and her Grandfather, Wilf, and there his both hearts start to beat hard and warm in his chest. His hand touches Clara’s arm for a moment when he walks over and places a finger onto the picture, “That’s your grandfather?”

By now, Donna, isn’t surprised by the stranger anymore, “Yes, do you know him?”

As he doesn’t know in what year they are, he can’t be sure if he is still alive and fears he has missed it, “He used to have a newspaper stand, right?”

“Yes, he had, he gave that up a few years ago,” she tells him. “He has retired basically, spending now all his time in the backyard, looking at the stars, through his old telescope.” Relieved the Doctor turns toward her, with a laugh. “The old dreamer he is. Says he might see some spacemen someday.”

“I am glad he is okay, I couldn’t be sure, after his newspaper stand closed,” he lies. “Glad I met his granddaughter in a book shop.”

“Shall I tell him hello? From the Doctor?”

The Doctor smirks first at Donna, then at Clara, all mischievous. He is sure Wilf will get a little heart attack over Donna mentioning him without knowing what it really means. He nods, and shoves his hands into his pocket.

“Doctor, I think we have to go,” Clara begins and breaks the silence, anticipating that something was between him and her, something important, something very special.

“Yes,” he whispers. “Can you take the book, and wait at the… the car for me? I’ll be there in a minute.”

“Car? Oh, of course, I’ll do,” she takes the book and turns to Donna. “Nice meeting you. Bye.”

“Bye!”

“It’s a lovely book shop you have here, Donna,” he clears his throat and points with his hand around the room. “Keep your hobby up. Books are so important.”

“Best weapon in the universe!” she starts to giggle, and doesn’t know where this has come from. And he goes with it, and they both giggle for a moment, like in the good old times, before sadness befalls both of them, and they both get quiet again, staring down their feet.

He wants to say something, and knows he can’t, the walls he has built in her head are too thick and will never break, and that’s good the way it is, “It was nice meeting you, Donna Noble.”

She smiles at him, and for a second he can’t be sure if this is Donna Noble the book shop owner or his old Donna, standing in front of him, at Christmas Eve, telling him to better not travel alone.

There is a warmth around her, he knows it’s rare in the world, and they both know, at some place in their hearts, that everything is fine. For her and for him. She’s not knowing it, but sensing it, deep inside, that he is okay, he is not travelling alone, “Your girlfriend is waiting.”

“Yes,” he grins, watching Clara bounce up and down in the cold, waiting for him. “I am going then.”

“Yeah, see you,” she turns back to a stack of books, when the telephone rings.

The Doctor ponders one last few moments before he turns around and leaves her with a sigh, joining Clara on the street.

“So…,” she dances on the spot, smiling at him, in the way he loves it.

“So what?”

“She was one of your old companions, wasn’t she?” she says a little softer, knowing not everything about Donna Noble but enough to know she was important. To him and to the universe.

“The most important woman in the universe,” he says with a touch of remorse, only able to hold back some tears, by the fact, that somewhere far away there is still a song sung about the DoctorDonna, and it makes him smile.

Clara slips her hand in his, and he is happy again, “I thought that was me,” she winks, and beams at him and he beams back at her.

“You are,” and gives her a quick kiss, before he drags her back into the Tardis. Whisking her away to another planet.

“What planet, this time, Doctor?” she wants to know, leaning against the console, in such a teasing way, that he is tempted to place the journey on hold for a bit.

“How about… the planet of the hats?” he claps his hands and dances around her toward the keyboard for the coordinates.

“Planet of the hats?” Clara asks quizzically. “There is such planet?”

The Doctor gives the book, that lays on top of the console, a smirk, before he turns to Clara, “Let’s find out!”

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> In case you had fun reading it I wouldn't mind a kudo, a comment or a message/reblog. I know it's not a popular pairing or at least nothing people like to read about and I am sure this is the only Donna/12 fic around. 
> 
> Thanks for the read!


End file.
